In the street children played, soldiers,pirates and planes,
Several skinny dogs barking, no longer on chains.
Mary sits on a chair, outside her front door,
Chatting to Mavis who lives along at number four.
Her black cat sits on the sill, striking an elegant pose,
A Small dog tries to get up, she shows him her claws.
Ron from sixty four, rides past on his bike,
Ringing its bell loud, gives the kids quite a fright.
At the top of the street was the old Phoenix inn,
Where every kind of sailor had a beer with his gin.
I was born at forty four, in the front room of that house,
Just a midwife, hot water, and the odd running mouse.
no television,no technology, just a big old tin bath,
An outside bloody toilet at night was no laugh.
At the bottom of the the street was an ex boxers kin,
My friends they all were and we made quite a din.
No posh suits,no choir, just old trawler man songs,
On any given day this was the street I lived on.......
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Author:
P.H.Rose (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 6th, 2016 04:01
- Comment from author about the poem: I was Born in 1960 on one of the poorest Streets in my town., My street.......
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 40
Offline)
Comments4
Wow. Great writing! I could picture every line.
Thank for those words WBL,
They mean a great deal to me
You are very welcome.
WOW awesome write
Thank you Tony
Welcome
I loved your poem. It was so descriptive, I don't know how you managed to rhyme, but I could envision everything!
Thank you for those lovely words chrissy
I loved this, the imagery, the simplicity, nicely done. (I too was bathed in a tin bath tub. The water was heated on the stove.)
Brothers from two mothers...
Thanks Augustus...
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